


We Found Love in the Games - Fitzward

by Hcterror



Series: The Hunger Games AU [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: 100th Hunger Games, 4th quarter quell, AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward, Could Be Canon, Crossover, F/M, Fitz is completely healthy, Fluffy, Headcanon, Hunger Games, M/M, Pre-Season/Series 02, Quarter Quell, Sleepy Cuddles, Ward can be lovable, fitzward - Freeform, no rebels, phillinda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hcterror/pseuds/Hcterror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Previously named Happy Hunger Games.</p><p>“Welcome to the 100th edition of the Hunger Games, and also the 4th Quarter Quell. We aim to remind the rebels that you’re never above the Capitol’s punishments, but also that we’re not the enemy here. Happy Hunger Games.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Capitol’s Announcement

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I had ages ago and finally decided to write. In this work the revolution never happened, Katniss and Peeta are not present nor important, nothing has changed, Panem is still the same, Snow is alive and so is everyone else. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Being the Mayor’s son is far from pleasuring, people think that you have it easy just because your father has some money, or that you think you’re above the laws of the district, they never stop to think that the person they see day-by-day might not be the same as he presents himself to be when he is protected by the seclusion of his house, they weren’t there to endure the childhood beating up and humiliation he disguised as ‘disciplinary actions’. It was never easy for me, the money made little to no difference in my life, and the things I went through made me a cold person, untrusting, distant.

As I made my way over, the thoughts clouded my mind, as they did every time I had to go back home from work, it was hard not to think about how messed up my family really was. We were all released earlier from work, so we could be home at the time President Snow had scheduled the announcement of the 4th Quarter Quell. No one was really looking forward to it, we’d just possibly lose two more children, or four if they decided to do like in the 2nd Quarter Quell. It was already the 100th Hunger Games’ edition, but it never got any easier to see our youngsters being ripped from their home and thrown into an arena to kill each other. As much as I tried not to dwell on the subject, it always managed to make my mood even worse, and the presence of my family would not make it any better.

I was not prepared to the announcement, for all I knew, anything could happen and the feeling on my gut told me that bad things were about to come, not that I’m superstitious or anything, I just learnt to trust my subconscious side. As I sat on the couch alongside my family, we all stared at the screen in silence, our hearts beating loudly within their cages, if not in anger, then in fear, it was not fair, never fair. 

Not long after that, the Capitol’s logo faded, giving place to President Snow’s face. The man looked much older and worn out than the last announcement he made. It could be pitiful, were it not for the fact that he was constantly ruining the lives of several families throughout the whole Panem. As he began to speak, I coiled my palms in fists as an attempt to contain my anger. There we go again.

_“Welcome to the 100th edition of the Hunger Games, and also the 4th Quarter Quell. This year only male tributes will be chosen from the districts, regardless of their ages, though if the last two standing are from the same district they may both come back home. We aim to remind the rebels that you’re never above the Capitol’s punishments, but also that we’re not the enemy here. Happy Hunger Games.”_

Disbelief was written across my features when President Snow finally finished his little announcement and the image faded from the screen. Once again my gut feeling was right; I was not safe, never safe. Suddenly my expression morphed from disbelief to anger, this Quarter Quell was wrong in so many levels. Standing up, I quickly made my way to my room; I was done with the day, actually, with everything. The reaping would be in two weeks.

-x-

When I woke up the next day to go to work I could not even remember falling asleep. The anger had been boiling within my system and it was hard to think about anything. All around the district everyone was wearing a grim expression, wives that could lose their husbands or sons, families that could easily be dismantled for the entertainment of the Capitol. We were barely even humans to them.

Arriving at the facility where I worked as a Weapons Tester, I was faced with the same grim expression I had seen upon everyone’s faces on my way there. No one was happy about the announcement, of course, why would they be? It was just their way of killing altogether the remnants of faith we still had inside of us. Before I even realized it, I was glaring at everyone, and no one in particular. I blamed the Capitol, and I hated the fact that I worked to make better weapons for their games and their so called peacekeepers.

“Grant?” Leo’s voice snapped me out of my haze. He was one of the few people I could actually call friends, and also my co-worker, the inventor of the weapons I tested. It was not unusual for Fitz to talk to me when I arrived at work, but something on his face and the tone of his voice made me think that there was something wrong with the man, he looked worried, and scared, what could be understandable, given our current situation, but I knew him better than that, it was not about himself.

Bobbing my head quietly in a nod that was meant as a greeting, I made my over to where Fitz was standing. “Yes?” My voice came out calm and collected, as per usual. It was impressive how I could mask my feelings and make it seem like nothing ever bothered or disturbed me, even if the situation was as bad as this one. Leo didn’t grace me with a response, instead he turned on his heels and started walking towards his lab, knowing that I would follow behind, that by itself meant that whatever he wanted to talk about, it was private, but that didn’t bother me in the slight.

Upon arriving at his lab, Fitz quietly lowered his slender physique onto the chair, one of his hands already elevated to the level of his head, allowing his palm to cover his face, which was a sign of distress, not unusual on Fitz. “Is there any way your father could take you out of this?” His question caught me by surprise, not because he thought that being the Mayor’s son could grant me a way out of this, instead due the amount of concern contained within the man’s words. It was rather impressive how he could worry about me in a moment like this. Not to insult him or anything, but I had way more chances of winning the games in case I was chosen at the reaping than Fitz. His scrawny frame and lack of fighting skills would definitely lead him straight into death. It was amongst that line of thoughts that I realized something, I didn’t want Fitz to be chosen either.

Releasing a silent sigh, I stalked towards the shorter man, stopping in front of him, so my hand could land on his shoulder, applying a soft squeeze to the muscle. “There isn’t, but don’t worry about it, Fitz, they won’t choose me.” The thought wasn’t as comforting as it should be, if it wasn’t me, it would be someone else we knew. There was no happy ending.

For the second time in the day, Fitz caught me by surprise. His slender arms wrapped tightly around the middle of my torso in a vice-like embrace. I didn’t know Leo had that much strength in him, neither did I know how to react, so settling for what was safe; I ran my digits across his hair. “Everything is gonna be alright, Fitz.” It was a lie, I knew that, Leo knew that, but still it was needed in the moment. We had to cling to our last hope.


	2. A Day in the Labs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward and Fitz spend a day in the labs running tests. Grant is his usual grumpy self, just not when he is with Leo, doing someone he actually enjoys.

Everything went back to normal after the moment I spent alone with Fitz talking to him. He seemed to be more calm as well as more accepting of the fact that maybe things would be alright after all, which by itself was a huge progress, at least in my eyes, but I was not exactly the most cheerful person in the world, so who was I to say? Exhaling a short lived sigh, I made my way down the hallway of the facility I worked at, there weren’t many people at the time, but there were still enough to disturb my peace. I had a report in hands, which I was supposed to deliver to my boss, but apparently the few people in the room thought the hallway was some kind of playground for they were all there being silly and making stupid jokes.

After having to stop on my tracks for the third time in a row, I finally lost my cool, and that was showed to my fellow co-workers by the form of a fist slamming against the wall on the said. My features were already twisted in an expression that could only be described as anger and annoyance. “Everyone get out of my way, if I have to stop one more time…” My voice was menacing and the threat was left in the air, but I knew it would work; no one ever dared speak up to me when I went into my authoritarian mode, what actually happened pretty often.

As the hallway finally cleared and people returned to their work, I resumed my steps, leading myself to my boss’ office. Of course the man wouldn’t be dare, but he certainly had a way of knowing if we delivered our reports in time, and mind you, I was not a fan of being scolded by some geriatric CEO. 

Placing the yellow folder onto the marble table that was located in the middle of the room, I quickly exited the office for I still had plenty of things to do, and on top of that list was testing the new weapon Fitz’ had invented. The male had said something about it being a gun, but I pretty much got lost after he gave me the ‘expert’ talk and began using terms I didn’t even know existed until they were leaving his mouth in a rushed tone; every time Leo did that I would simply keep staring at him and nodding until he was done, even though I was not understanding a single thing he was saying, or I would ask him to speak English, to which he would sarcastically ask me if I’m mental and reply that he /was/ speaking the ‘Queen’s bloody English’, and then I would be forced to confute that I meant normal English and not nerd English, to that he would either slap me across the chest or glare. It was the same, every single time we had the discussion, but I was quite fond of our light bickering, it improved my mood.

-x-

“Heard that you shouted at people in the hallway today,” Of course that would be the first thing Fitz would bring up when I entered his lab, but as per usual I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t even know why he’d bring it up if he knew just how ill-tempered I am. “They were blocking my path.” Fitz didn’t exactly give me a response; he simply hummed in agreement and dropped the subject. Good boy. Maybe he was beginning to understand that it was pointless.

Luckily for me, I knew just how Fitz worked, so it would be easy to take his mind off of it. “So, where’s this new gun you were talking about?” Leo’s eyes sparkled with the question, he was very passionate with his work, which was a rare trait nowadays, and I liked that about him, it was one of the things that drew me to him, that and the fact that he was easy to talk to. "I call it ICER. It fires non-lethal bullets with heavy stopping power that break up under the subcutaneous skin, and from there, the bullets are supposed to deliver a tiny amount of dendrotoxin, incapacitating the target long enough for them to be secured with no harmful side effects. Also if your hit a person in the heart or brain it should put them in a brain dead state for a day or so, we still have to run tests, though." Fitz’ voice was rushed as he explained to me what the weapon had in store for us, but from what I collected it sounded genial.

“I can’t wait to put my hands on it,” Once again instead of replying Fitz only hums in agreement, and next thing I know I’m being dragged into the testing room where one of our voluntary guinea pigs was already waiting for us. “Here,” Fitz said, placing his newest invention in my hand. “It has .45-caliber cartridges, semi-automatic. Each mag contains eight therapeutic rounds of dendrotoxin.” He completes, and I only nod, wrapping my fingers properly around the gun. “It's an ounce too heavy, Fitz.” I say, only to bother the man, and that earns myself a slap across the chest, to which I reply with a small smirk.

The next step in the process is to shoot the guinea pig and that was one of my favourite parts, not that I was a bad guy or anything, but there was just something pleasurable about successfully shooting someone. As I stood in place, getting ready to fire at the target, Fitz took a few steps backwards just in precaution, that was how the tests went. Stretching my arm almost all the way forward, I dropped a singular ailed, so I could aim at the voluntary. He didn’t look scared at all, what made me think that he had probably been through it at least enough times to grow accustomed to it, though I didn’t really remember ever seeing his face before. Rolling one of my shoulders slowly to relax my muscles, I the prepared to shoot, shifting my stance to one that was more suitable to the action, and then I fired.

The gun did not make much noise as the tranquilizer bullet flew towards the target, hitting him on the left shoulder on the exact spot I had been aiming. The man flinched backwards with the impact and then his body fell to the ground, collapsing with a thud as it hit the floor. That was usually when Fitz would walk towards the guinea pig and start running his own tests, and as expected, that was exactly what happened. Leo lowered his elfin physique beside the man in a crouching position, one of his knees was pressed against the ground and one of his palms was located at the man’s neck, the other on his wrist, feeling for a pulse. Briefly retracting his appendages to take notes on his tablet, Fitz then descended his head to the level of the voluntary’s face on the ground to check if he was breathing properly, and once again he took notes. 

Once he was finished with the whole checking process, Fitz stood up and stalked towards me, tapping my shoulder with a huge grin on his lips. “The test was a success.” Leo always got excited when one of his inventions worked properly, but I knew that the real reason behind his grin was the thought that maybe he could propose the chosen weapon to the chief of the peacekeepers, so the ICER could be used to control the citizens instead of the fire guns they usually used. In his own manner Fitz was trying to change Panem, make it a safer place for the people even if he could not do much. I admired him for it.

“Do you have another voluntary you want to shoot on the heart to see if he’ll get into a brain dead state?” The expression upon my features seemed to be serious and all business, but Fitz knew I was just joking, so he simply shook his head and sat on a chair that was located in the corner of the room, staring at me with a faux stern look, and that’s exactly how our testing sessions usually went. Soon someone would come pick the man from the ground and take him to a more comfortable place, so he could be monitored until he awoke, but Fitz and I would stay in the testing room, joking and talking. It was the only way to keep my mind off things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for any inaccurate information.


	3. The Reaping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reaping is never a happy event, but for Fitz and Ward it's even worst than it is to the others.

The days passed faster than I expected, and before I even noticed, it was the day of the reaping. Just like every single year since I could remember we would have to stand amongst a crowd in the district’s centre to watch the event, only this time I would be back amongst the potential-tributes, as well as the rest of the district 3’s male population. That was just my luck; it would be just like being a teenager all over again, consumed in fear and later on, insecurities.

Around nine o’clock, I head for the square. I’m dressed in my best pieces of clothing, which consist of a black suit, light blue undershirt, navy tie and black shoes. It’s not like I’m going to an important gala event or anything, but everyone tend to wear their best clothes when going to the reaping, it must have something to do with the fact that the whole square will be covered by cameras in every wall, filming our faces, our reactions and soon enough, our tears when we watch our loved ones part to pursue a faith that sometimes is worse than a simpler death, they’ll be the Capitol’s entertainment in their twisted reality show.

Since the presence is mandatory unless you’re on death’s door, I’m aware that I will most likely end up crossing paths with my older brother, but I try not to let that bother me, I already have enough things to anger me. 

Once I’m at the square, I get in the line to sign in silently, a permanent scowl is already settled upon my features, but no one would comment, I knew they felt just the way I did, but even if they didn’t, they understood it. We, the potential-tributes, then are herded into roped areas, marked off by ages, twelve through eighteen-years-olds, then nineteen through twenty-nine-years-olds, and so on. They leave the oldest in the front, while the younger ones go toward the back. The family members line up around the perimeter, this year most of them are women, the rest are just boys that haven’t reached the age of twelve yet, a sense of dreading visible on all of their faces. I try to look around for Fitz, but the place is too crowded and I can’t see him anywhere, I know just how worried he will be, not just for himself, but for both of us.

Looking at my front, all four chairs at the stage by the front of the square are filled, my father is there, being the mayor he has to be there every year, he’s taking the seat on the right edge, and on his left side is Phillip Coulson, one of our victors and this year’s mentor, beside him is Melinda May, another one of our victors and also this year’s second mentor. But on the left edge, where our escort is supposed to sit, is a woman that I do not recognize, she’s young and looks far too nice for her own good and not at all like the people from the capitol, and that somehow unsettles me, makes me wonder what happened to our old escort. They are all murmuring amongst themselves, and my eyes remain fixated on them, analysing their body language.

-x-

When the clock strikes ten, my father stands up from his chair and walks up to the podium to read Panem’s history, it’s the same thing every year. He then proceeds to read the list of District 3’s past victors, introducing Phil Coulson and Melinda May who are this year’s mentors, only then does he acknowledge the presence of the unknown woman, presenting her to the public as Jemma Simmons, District 3’s newest escort, that would be taking up the place of Zalia, our old escort, since apparently the woman died. Jemma takes the microphone from him and starts talking, giving continuation to the reaping.

Jemma Simmons is nothing of what I expected of someone from the Capitol. Her accents is exquisite, almost similar to Fitz’ own, and I wonder if she was actually born outside of the Capitol, also she isn’t all that cheerful and loving of the games as Zalia was, she looks more like she’s here to comply a task, and that immediately makes me despise her a little less than I did Zalia.

Jemma spends some time introducing herself, and telling us what an honour it is to be here being our escort, and what big hopes she has for this year’s games. The little speech doesn’t last all that long and soon she crosses over to the glass ball containing the names of the potential-tributes. I try not to worry, but I know my name will be there at least twenty-two times, and although some people have their names there way more, I still feel unease at the prospect. With the slip of paper in hand, the woman goes back to the middle of the podium, the mic in front of her as she reads the name in a clear voice. It’s Grant Douglas Ward. 

I felt like I had been hit with a punch on the stomach, trying to remember how to breathe, unable to speak and stunned. It was me; I would be going to the games this year. As I look around, I finally spot Fitz, the blood is drained from his face, his hands clenched in fists at his sides, but there’s nothing he can do.

Taking a deep breath and closing my eyelids briefly, I then start taking small steps toward the stage. I was not afraid, I was not scared, I was angry, and anyone that dared look at my face would be able to see that. I no longer cared about the cameras, or the image I would have to build up for the public if I wanted help. The anger was dominating me. When I finally reach the stage, Jemma Simmons is in front of me, extending her hand at my general direction in an offer for a handshake, which I comply, only to avoid trouble with the peacekeepers. I maintain my cool.

“Let’s give a round of applause to our newest tribute.” Jemma calls out to the public when I finally release her hand from my hold. I can see that she is extremely uncomfortable doing that, but I bet no one else can notice it, they’re blind. I stand there by the woman’s right side as the people from the district clap their hands unenthusiastically. It doesn’t last long and again Jemma makes her way to the glass ball to draw the name of the second tribute, my expression is schooled, but at this point my insides are boiling.

“Leopold Fitz.” The escort called and I got on the verge of losing my mind. No, I think. Not him. Why him? If Leo’s face looked like the blood had been drained from it when my name was called, now it looked even worse. He didn’t look like he was about to cry, and I knew he wouldn’t, but the nervousness could not be hidden from countenance. Fitz was shocked, and he had plenty of reasons for that, after all, what were the odds that we both would be chosen in the reaping? Apparently destiny was keen on playing with us, but this one was a twisted game. 

I watched Fitz as he made his way to the stage, face pale and head slightly dropped in defeat. I honestly wished someone would come up and say that this was all a joke, but I knew that would not happen, this was the games and the Capitol would never play with it, it was one of the few things concerning the districts that they took seriously. It didn’t take long for Leo to reach the podium, and just like she had done me, Jemma asked the district for a round of applause to Fitz, which was unwanted, but there was nothing the man could do about it. My father, who had walked to the microphone unnoticed, then begins to read the Treaty of Treason, but I’m not paying attention to the words, just to him, he doesn’t even seen to mind that his son was chosen for the games, but again, that was expected from him, he didn’t care.

As my father finished reading the Treaty of Treason, he motioned for Fitz and I to shake hands, which we did, and when I looked into Fitz’ eyes, I saw everything he wanted to say to me, but couldn’t because of the cameras there. Leo was sorry that we had both been chosen for the games, he was sorry that no one in my family cared, he was sorry that I had gotten such a weak partner (his opinion, not mine), but mostly he was sorry that there was nothing we could do about it. We then turn to face the crowd as Panem’s Anthem starts playing, sealing our demise.

So soon as the anthem is over we’re taken to the Justice Building, escorted by peacekeepers, they don’t handcuff us or anything, but it’s kind of general belief that if anyone tries to flee they’re killed in the spot. Once were inside the building, each one of us, Fitz and I, is conducted to a room and left alone. We now had one hour to say our goodbyes to our friends and family, but I didn’t expect anyone to come see me. To my surprise my boss and some of my co-workers come to visit me and bid me their farewells, they tell me that they have faith in my abilities as fighter, weapon withholder and marksman, and I am kind of glad for that, but still I act as if I already knew that and treat them as I have always done, putting a barrier between us. Before they leave me they give me something to take to the games, a pin with the symbol of our facility, a black eagle with its wings slightly spread on a silver background. I politely thanked them and then they were gone. My family never came to say goodbye, but I didn’t want them to, I was better off without them.

When a peacekeeper enters the room I was in, I know what’s coming next, we’re going to the train station to take the ride to the Capitol. I was not particularly eager to go to the Capitol already, but at least I would have some hours to appreciate the view of the nature and get my mind off things, school myself a little and start to plan just what I would have to do to keep both Fitz and I alive, so we could return home. The Careers would be the main threat, obviously, but they would not be the only one, and I would have to be prepared for everything that might come our way.

The ride from the Justice Building to the train station is not long, but when we arrive there, the place is filled with reporters with their cameras, all of them trying to be the first to capture images of District 3’s newest tributes, if they’re lucky enough, their weaknesses and some traits of their personalities. Sadly for them, I’m not about to let anything slip from me before I manage to come up with a whole strategy for the games, so when their cameras focus on me, my face is expressionless and I appear to be almost bored, as to Fitz, which is currently by my side, it was pretty obvious for them that he was not happy with the situation, his eyes were slightly reddened, indicating that he had cried in the past hour and his visage showed distress.

In an attempt to rescue Leo from the spotlights, I turned on my charms and began waving for one of the reporters, my hand was moving in a way that looked almost like I was inviting her to come closer, and when she did, I allowed the corners of my lips to curve in the smallest of smirk, adding to the mischievous expression that my face now contained. Luckily my efforts managed to become valid and soon the other reporters were filming me, too, finally leaving Fitz alone, and from the corner of my eyes I saw him mouthing a ‘Thank you’ for me.

After more or less half an hour, the peacekeepers finally started blocking the reporters, pushing them away from us and making a barred between our spot and the lunatics. Jemma, Phillip and Melinda were in front of the train’s door already, but I didn’t go there just yet, instead I extended my arm in order to place a singular palm on Fitz’ shoulder, squeezing the flesh reassuringly as I looked at him, and I hoped that he could recognise my words in the gesture, which were ‘It’s going to be alright’.

Soon the doors of the train were opened and we were pushed towards the entrance of the vehicle, which started moving as soon as we entered it. The ride to the Capitol would only take a few hours, but we would have that time to become acquainted with our mentors as well as our escort, after all they would play a slightly big part on the games, and could make the difference between life and death if we ever needed them during the games. Being social was not exactly my most renowned skill, but I hoped that they would at least be entranced by Fitz’ cheerful personality, even though he was not exactly being cheerful right now. These games would be different, it was not only my life at risk here, and I would do my best to bring Fitz and I back home.

The train began moving. It had started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work does not have a beta, so I apologise for any errors.


	4. The Train Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a filler chapter, so y'all won't think that I forgot about this fanfiction. I promise that I'll update soon.

As soon as he entered the train, a thought hit Ward, hard. It had begun. It was time for the games, even if they hadn’t reached the arena just yet. He would have to be prepared for it, but how could one prepare himself for the idea of an imminent death? The truth is, he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t. Grant didn’t want to die, and even more, he couldn’t let Fitz die.

Even though joining the mentors at the faux living room they had set in the train compartment would be the wisest idea, the male just couldn’t bring himself to do so; he needed some time alone to let the recent events sink in for once. Since the only place he would manage to be alone right now was his room in the train, there is exactly where Ward went, being followed closely by an avox. If it was another situation, he would’ve dismissed anyone who attempted to follow him, but he was in an unknown place and had no idea where to go, so he let her be.

Once he reached the bedroom, Ward said his thanks for the avox in a low tone and dismissed her. The next step was to close the door and then he made his way over to the bed, lowering his physique onto the mattress and then, only then he allowed himself to freak out a little. His palms were placed over his face, covering it. His body was shaking slightly and he could feel a drip of sweat running down the side of his face, his thoughts were all messed up. Grant was scared. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone, but he was, he feared for himself and feared for Leo. District 3 wasn’t well known for having that many victors, but if it depended on him, he would do his best to change that.

While Ward was there in his room, he figured Fitz would be with the mentors and the escort, charming them with his brilliant personality and his intelligence. He should be there as well, but if so, he probably would have exploded at some point, and done something that not only would he regret, but also would ruin his chances at the games. He would let Leo deal with them for now.

-x-

It was not long before the same avox that had brought him to his designated room knocked on Grant’s door to guide him to the dining room. Three hours had passed and he didn’t even notice. It was lunch time, and this time he was prepared to meet with the rest of the group.

“Ward!” Fitz was waving at him from across the table the same way he used to do whenever they joined each other for lunch during their break at work. Sadly it felt like a lifetime ago since they had done that and not just a few hours. Acknowledging the younger male with a nod, Grant seated across from him, taking the time to turn his head a bit, so he could greet the rest of the people with a polite nod.

There was a ridiculous variety of food on the table. More than he had ever had the pleasure to see in front of him, and Ward imagined that Leo felt the same way since he was not as wealthy as himself. Although the food looked delicious, Grant didn’t feel hungry, that spark of nervousness was still within him, making him feel uncomfortable. Everyone else already had food on their plates and were eating quietly, but the silence was not pleasant, instead it was overwhelming, and if he didn’t need them, the male would have left the place.

Serving some pasta with meatballs to his plate, Ward decided that it was time to speak up. “So, any tips on how to stay alive at the arena?” His tone of voice was casual, sounding calm and collected, even if it was completely different from how he was feeling inside. A fork was lifted to bring some of the food into his mouth. Everyone was looking at him now, even Fitz, whom seemed to only be remembering now the trick fate had set up for them. Jemma had a surprised expression upon her mien, as if she was wondering why he would bring up the subject during the meal. Melinda and Phil both looked stoic, and for a few seconds there was no response, that is, until May opened her mouth. “You fight.”

Grant was ready to complain, and it must’ve been visible on his features, because soon Simmons interrupted him, voicing her own thoughts. “You’re going to have to win the hearts of the public. Make them love and root for you two, that way it’ll be easier for us to get you sponsors. Those can be the difference between life and death.” Finally joining the conversation, Coulson added a piece of his mind. “There are some strategies that could be used in this situation to help you, but you’d have to be comfortable with it.” Both Fitz and Ward furrowed their eyebrows in twin expressions before Phil continued. “I’ll explain when we arrive there. You should enjoy your meal while you can.” He completed, pointing to their plates. Grant knew an end of discussion when he saw one, so he simply bobbed his head in a quick nod and let the subject be dismissed. There would be time for it.

-x-

After lunch Leo accompanied Grant to his room. It seemed like he had gotten better at hiding his feelings, because as soon as they were seated on Ward’s bed and the door was closed, he lost it. Fitz was shaking and tears could be seen on the corners of his eyes, which were gradually reddening. The older male was not exactly a pro at comforting people, but they were friends, and he had to do it, so Grant gently slid an arm around the middle of Leo’s torso and let the Scottish’s head rest against his chest. The brunet’s palm rubbed against the blond’s back in a motion that he hoped felt both calming and reassuring.

That’s how the two males spent the rest of their afternoon, cuddled together on Ward’s bed, trying to reassure each other that it would be alright, that they would come out of it victorious. And maybe, just maybe, in the end it would come true.


End file.
